


3 AM Sentiments

by radiochattertherapy (murderousCohort)



Series: Take It With Love and You Will Pass [1]
Category: The Fandom of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderousCohort/pseuds/radiochattertherapy





	3 AM Sentiments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8ad_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ad_Wolf/gifts).



It was somewhere else where your life started. You lived in one place when you were small, and then moved to another state. And it was there that you met her. 

Your closest friend. Maybe even your best friend. 

You were little. Nobody remembers how old you were. But she was wild back then (and maybe still is, a little...) and she hurt people but didn't mean to, honestly didn't.

You came, and at first you two fought like summer and winter, like light and dark. You hurt eachother and screamed. 

It was over one girl- you fought for her friendship, and her attention, and when that girl moved on (from her friend- she'd chosen her, you think) you didn't fight. It was just cold silence. 

Then one day you met. Your friendship seemed to bloom out of nowhere, and one day you realized you were close enough that you talked every day. 

Now you're thirteen, and the fire that used to run through her veins (that calmed whenever it met your own soothing earth, your steady ground) has dimmed, and maybe turned into something else. It seems like it's barely coals now, and she's worn down. 

Hard things have happened to both of you. She may have known troubles, but so have you, and while hers were definitely more obvious to the outside (like the fact her dad didn't show up beside her mom any longer, or the fact that she never slept any more, and the spots under her eyes were permanently stained charcoal) yours were creeping, sometimes drowning fears. 

You made it through, every time. Sometimes you didn't want to, but you did. Things reached a balance point, a sort of shaky even-ness. She seemed not to dim, but to sooth, until her fire had mutated into something like a candle, flickering gently and calmly. 

Nights were hard. She was always awake, and ready to answer your questions and talk to you, but you weren't there for her every single time. You tried to be, but you just couldn't stay up as late. 

She never minded. She taught herself patience and self-soothing, and she was still wild outside, but inside she was a gently babbling brook, and not the rapids at the end of a waterfall.

Patience was hard for you. She seemed to think that patience was your power, but the reality (or at least your opinion) was that you weren't as good at it as she thought. 

She looked at you like you held the answers. She was your parabatai, moirail, best friend, and that was who she was. She was one of your closest confidentiantes. 

She wrote for you, one day, early in the morning, at 3 AM. She wrote a story of your lives together so far, and she sent it to you and she waited.


End file.
